The Life & Death of Jorja Graham

by Brynn Myers

  He responded with a huff and I shuffled past him, using my hip to hold open the door. I smiled at Evelyn and Hal and they waved goodbyes just as I turned towards the street. A black sedan sat in front of the café as if it owned the spot and the spaces surrounding it. I couldn’t see if there was anyone inside because the windows were tinted a pitch black, but I think it was safe to assume it belonged to the tall, scary dude I’d just ran into. It looked like something he would drive, dark and ominous, just like him.

  A few steps past the bumper of the car and a chill ran up my spine. I couldn’t help but feel as if I were being watched, as if eyes were boring into the back of my head. I picked up my pace and rounded the corner to head towards my shop. Guess the jazz festival's attracting all kinds this year, yay us.

  I knocked on the glass door and held up the coffee and bakery box, knowing Vivian would come running. Cool Beans Café was one of her favorites, and these muffins were the reason for it.

  “I didn’t get you a coffee because I knew you’d already have your fill, but these,” I waved the box in front of her, “these I knew you’d kill for.”

  Vivian grabbed the box from my hands and headed towards the back counter. Heddie walked into the back to grab some napkins as Vivian untied the twine.

  “I am so glad you are home, darlin'. No one ever brings us gifts that’ll add twenty pounds to our backsides,” Heddie quipped with a sarcastic look on her face.

  “So only take half, share with Vivian,” I retorted as I grabbed a napkin and a whole muffin.

  “Who are you kiddin’? You can’t eat just half, that’d be blasphemy,” Heddie winked.

  Vivian didn’t bother to respond because she was too busy devouring her first bite.

  “So what’s the scoop?” I asked as I walked towards my desk.

  “Well, obviously I think you’d better get started on Rhetta’s file first. Paxton dropped by a manila envelope for you to take a look at in addition to that yellow file there. Apparently, Mr. Holbrook wants to be very involved in the auction item list. He said he was looking for any unique pieces he could take back with him to Louisiana,” Heddie said from the front room.

  I set down my coffee and muffin and began flipping through the file. I was curious to know what treasures I’d find, but only found general stats about the property, things anyone could have retrieved from our local public records. I walked back into the main room, waving the file. “Does Paxton have the keys to the estate? I really need to see everything before I can tell Mr. Holbrook what, if any 'unique' pieces there are.”

  Vivian frowned as she wiped her hands with the napkin Heddie handed her. “No, Mr. Holbrook has yet to hand over the keys. He said he wanted to wait until he met you in person.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Great, let me guess, another attempt to decide whether I'll be worthy or not.”

  I flipped open the manila envelope and pulled out a stack of hand written notes, along with copies of the land survey of Rhetta’s property. I started to squint and Vivian handed me a pair of glasses. I smiled at her and slipped them on. I didn’t need glasses for anything other than reading, and so as a result, I had them stashed everywhere just in case I needed them. I had at least three pairs here in the shop alone, because I’d always forget to bring a pair in my bag. The bell on our front door chimed and I looked up to see a family of four walking in. My aunts welcomed them as I leaned forward on the counter to read the letters.

  They were notes Paxton had collected from various sources. Some were thoughts scribbled onto miscellaneous sheets of paper, but the one I had my hand on now, was the one I was most interested in. It was scribbled with an elaborate cursive, a woman’s handwriting for sure, and it looked as if it were torn from a journal. The top page was tea stained, while the second and third pages were crumpled, as if they’d been tossed in the trash at some point. I flattened the pages and began to read.

  January 2, 1948

  I saw them together today but he was too drunk and too stupid to notice. His hands groping that young blonde girl as he pushed her against the tree beyond our back porch. He must’ve assumed I’d gone into town for the day, but I canceled those plans. I needed to know just who he’d been bringing to the carriage house. I watched as he slid his hand up her leg, raising her dress high enough to show her silk stockings and garter belt. My blood began to boil as she moaned at his touch, the same moan he used to elicit from me when I was young and foolish enough to believe his lies. Daddy warned me about him, but I was too in love to see it. And now, here I am, years later, changing plans and hiding behind trees, about to watch as my husband screws yet another woman. I hate who he’s turned me into. I hate how pathetic I’ve become. Apparently Carver has forgotten just who I am, but soon he’ll remember. Soon he’ll know I was not one to be deceived. I will make him pay for the hell he’s put me through one way or another.

  The letter was not signed, but I recognized the name Carver, it was Rhetta’s philandering husband. I was shocked that she’d actually caught him in the act and didn’t do anything right then to stop it. But I also knew the tales that were told about the day Carver died and maybe Rhetta had followed through with the threat she’d scribbled on this page. Maybe she was indeed the one who had orchestrated his demise.

  The door chimed again and I looked up to see the large man from the café standing outside the front window, leaning against the very car that had given me the creeps not more than twenty minutes ago. However, it was the man who was kissing Vivian's hand that quickly drew my attention.

  “You look well today, Vivian,” the man’s voice crooned.

  “Well, you are looking mighty fine yourself there, Mr. Holbrook, I mean Corbin,” Vivian responded with a slight giggle.

  I pulled off my glasses and watched as he looked in my direction before he went over to Heddie to greet her the same way. Oh he better not try and pull that crap with me…who does this guy think he is? I closed the file in front of me and was grateful at least that Heddie didn’t giggle like a smitten school girl as he walked past her and towards me.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said as he stood before me.

  “Mr. Holbrook, I presume?”

  A sly look crept across his face and that same chill ran up my spine from earlier. I could only assume it had been him who’d been staring at me from inside the car. He seemed to radiate an “I’m in control and you’ll obey” persona, which immediately set my teeth on edge.

  “You’ve presumed correctly and by that snap in your tone, you must be Ms. Graham. I thought you said you wouldn’t be returning for a few days.” His eyes steeled to mine.

  “I lied. I was just hoping for a chance to review the information regarding the estate before you arrived so I could make sure you received the best service, but it seems that was futile. You’ve already made a plan of your own.”

  “My only plan is to find out all I can about this town of yours and the estate that I’ve recently acquired. I have been informed that Rhetta Rhyland had an extensive collection of antiques and vintage jewelry, all of which I would be extremely interested in knowing more about,” he said as he clasped his hands in front of him.

  My aunts had been right about his eyes. They were a deep russet brown and the gold flecks seemed to flicker the longer he stared. He was an attractive man, and one under different circumstances I may have taken a second look at, but I wasn’t a fan of arrogant men. Confident men, yes, but this man in front of me, he bordered on narcissistic and that was not attractive. I looked down, needing a distraction from the intensity of his gaze.

  When I looked down at the file folder on the counter, my aunts patted my shoulder as they strolled towards the backroom. They were so gonna get it when this man left. I knew what they were doing...leaving the room to give the two of us a moment. A moment for what? I couldn't imagine the man before me caring about anything other than his precious belongings.

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “Excuse me?”


  “You say that a lot, don’t you?”

  I shot him a curious look, wondering how he could've overheard me at the café. “I’m not interested in mixing business with pleasure, Mr. Holbrook,” I said as I fiddled with my glasses.

  “But I can assure you, Ms. Graham, I can do both.”

  I set my reading glasses on the counter as he stood there with his arms locked behind his back. The clean lines of his dark blue suit were a striking contrast to his cobalt blue tie. He looked every bit the pompous ass he’d been on the phone yesterday, the only difference now, was that I no longer had to wonder what he looked like.

  “Does this crap of yours usually work, Mr. Holbrook?”

  “Crap, Ms. Graham?”

  “Yes, crap…this arrogant rhetoric you seem to find charming. Does this normally work for you? Do the women actually fall at your feet, hoping for just one more word?”

  “Usually.”

  His smug look had me fuming, but I wasn’t about to let him know that, so instead I opted for an abrupt turn in the conversation. “Well, good for you. Now if we can get back to the business at hand. Which day works best to hold the auction? The sooner the better as far as I’m concerned and then you’ll be able to get back to your lovely home state of Louisiana.”

  “I’m in no hurry to return now that we’ve been formally introduced, so whatever day works best for you, Ms. Graham.”

  I took a heavy sigh because having a conversation with a man who believed he was God’s gift to women was pointless. He would continue to try and I would continue not to care…this dance could go on forever.

  “Fine. I’ll need a few days to catalog everything so we can properly prepare for the auction.” He didn’t respond, just smiled as he gave a clipped nod. “Will you need us to arrange for the catering and seating?” I asked as I reached for a pen and put back on my glasses. When he didn’t respond again, I looked over the rim of my readers and then shook my head. Corbin Holbrook was staring at me as if he planned on devouring me. This moment seemed to drag on for forever and I had all I was going to take of whatever this was. “How about this, I’ll handle everything for you. You’re probably not familiar with how we do things around here, but any special events include something homemade to go along with our sweet tea.”

  “As long as you are handling everything, I’ll be perfectly content with paying the bill. Whatever you feel is necessary, Ms. Graham. Spare no expense.”

  “It’ll be a simple affair, nothing too expensive, and I’ll include the extras with my bill.”

  “Then it seems we have everything settled, for now at least. Maybe next time you’ll take me up on dinner.”

  “I doubt it, Mr. Holbrook. I’m pretty sure hell will freeze over first.”

  Again he smiled. “Well, that may be happening sooner than you think, my dear.”

  Just as he turned to leave, my aunts came out of the backroom. “Have a lovely day, Mr. Holbrook,” they chimed in unison as he opened the door to leave.

  “I will do just that, ladies, now that I have met your niece,” he replied as he winked at them both.

  “Crap!” I muttered as I watched him move to get into the backseat of his car.

  “What, Jorja?” Vivian asked.

  “I forgot to ask him for the damn keys,” I replied as I pushed through the front door.

  I waved my hand and the back window descended at a turtles pace. “Did you change your mind about dinner, Ms. Graham?” he asked smugly.

  “No. I forgot to ask you for the keys to the estate. I’d really like to get started as soon as possible, so if I could have the keys, I'll begin this afternoon.”

  He pulled open his jacket and reached into the inside pocket but paused. “I’ll meet you there in an hour. I’ve yet to enter the place myself and wouldn’t feel right about you going in alone. Would hate for you to encounter a rat or a wild animal and not have someone there to fend it off,” he said as he closed his jacket and smiled up at me.

  “I can assure you, Mr. Holbrook I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “I’m sure you can but I’ll still meet you there in an hour.” He looked down at his watch and then back up to me. “One o’clock?”

  I sighed and then relented. “One o’clock.”

  He nodded and then the dark tinted window began to rise as the car pulled away from the curb.

  “Great, just friggin' great.”

  c h a p t e r

  SEVEN

  I walked back into the shop and was met with a barrage of questions from my aunts. I answered them all with a simple, "I don’t know," and a promise to get some answers by this afternoon. I had no idea how many belongings Rhetta actually owned, so there was no way I could tell for certain exactly how long it would take to process everything. I did know, however, that I wanted to be rid of Mr. Holbrook, so the sooner I met with him, the sooner I’d be free of him.

  I left the shop and headed back to the house. Rhetta’s estate was at least a twenty minute drive and I was already down thirty minutes between the inquisition and the walk back home. As I entered my house the clock on the mantle chimed, announcing that it was twelve thirty. “Crap. I hate being late.” I grabbed a granola bar, my camera, and an extra pad of paper before heading right back out the door.

  On the drive over, I tried to recall all I could about the weeks and months following Rhetta Rhyland’s death. Everyone knew she was a recluse and that she rarely allowed people anywhere near the estate. But when she took a nasty spill down her grand staircase, seclusion was no longer an option. The doctor, who had treated her, sent one of his nurses to check on her daily because she had refused to go to a hospital. About a week after her fall though, the nurse had stopped by to check on her and said the house was in disarray and that Rhetta was nowhere to be found, which was odd considering she was bed-ridden from the fall.

  The nurse called the police and when they finally found her in the woods behind the carriage house, it was said that Rhetta was nearly unidentifiable based on the wounds. No one had been able to determine an exact time of death, but only that it had happened sometime between nurses visits.

  The papers reported that Mrs. Rhyland, in her delirium, crawled out into the woods somehow and was attacked by wild animals, leaving her body badly mangled and dismembered. Folks, however, didn’t buy that version of the story. They preferred the myth, that Rhetta was a witch who practiced dark magic and that this was God’s punishment for all the horrible things she’d done to people over the years.

  The only thing that was actually true about Mrs. Rhyland was that she’d been a vain, jealous woman with a wicked temper. Heddie and Vivian always used to say that whenever she came into town, people would give her a wide berth in hopes she’d leave them alone. But this, like any good fishing story, grew taller and taller with each retelling. It made for great fodder around the local bars and haunts. People clambered to see the place that had been surrounded by such legend, at least until the day when people just stopped caring and moved on to a new topic.

  I turned onto the main drive towards Rhetta’s house and was awestruck. A massive stone and iron gate stood guard at the entrance, the stone blocks extending well beyond the arched opening. One of the gates was ajar and looked like a butler bowing, pointing in the direction of the homes proprietor. Leaves crackled beneath my tires as I drove up the tree-lined road that led to the front of the estate. It was simply breathtaking. The huge oaks canopied into an archway down the long stretch, while the Spanish moss hung down from the thick branches, creating an apathetic yet haunting effect.

  The house itself was no less magnificent. The stately Greek columns stood like soldiers on either side of the two story box framed structure. The white house was grand but the wooden rocking chairs sitting on the second story wraparound porch gave it a homey and inviting feel, a vast contrast to the stories that surrounded Rhetta herself. The only thing that marred this beautiful home was all the dead shrubbery and weeds from this past year's negle
ct, but that was an easy fix.

  I parked my car next to the black Mercedes sedan and wondered if Mr. Holbrook was here alone or if his driver was waiting with him inside. I grabbed my things out of the passenger seat and clicked my car alarm just as the front door opened. Mr. Holbrook stood there, with a pleased look on his face.

  “Nice to see you again, Ms. Graham.”

  I sighed inwardly and then put on my best southern smile. “Nice to see you again as well, Mr. Holbrook.”

  “Excellent. We are making progress already,” he said as he moved to the side, offering entrance to the front room.

  I sucked in a breath. The house was even more amazing than I thought. There was a magnificent staircase leading to the second level with the most beautiful banisters I’d ever seen. They weren’t spindles but rather ornately carved insets which made the staircase seem even grander.

  “It’s beautiful isn’t it? It seems more like a movie set than the home of a wicked shrew.”

  I chuckled at his comment. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

  “You look lovely when you smile.”

  I was struck by his compliment and the charming smile he wore, but that was not enough to sway me. I wasn’t here to date him. I was here to prepare for an auction. “Have you had a chance to look at the entire place yet?”

  He clasped his hands behind his back again and huffed. “Yes and it appears the inside has remained untouched. Besides cobwebs, bugs, and the occasional family of mice, the inside of this house is in good condition.”

  “Excellent. The jazz festival next week will bring lots of extra people to town and I think this would be the perfect location to hold the auction. Don’t you agree?”

  “It sounds fine, but will that give you enough time to get everything ready?”

  “It’ll take some finagling and a few favors, but yes, I can make it happen,” I said as I set down my bag and pulled out my pen and paper. I began to make notes of who I needed to call first: a cleaning crew, a caterer to bring in tables and chairs, a small wait staff to monitor the food and drinks.